


little pieces of you

by sleeponrooftops



Series: raising webhead: a parenting guide, attempted by the science boyfriends [63]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s snowing out, and Peter has childish tendencies that include sledding and snowball fights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little pieces of you

_One month later._

_December, 2028_

“It’s snowing out,” is the first thing Peter hears in the morning.

 

He smiles, cracking one eye open to find Wade’s brown eyes looking past him, though, when he notices Peter is awake, he steals a quick kiss and starts to look back up when Peter whines and reaches up a lazy hand, tugging on his ear.  Wade laughs softly and turns his attention down to Peter, kissing him slowly until Peter feels like he could just drift away in the touch of his mouth.  “Are you falling asleep while I’m kissing you?” Wade murmurs against his lips, and Peter hums.  “Loser,” Wade laughs, leaning up to kiss his nose and then settling again, gaze still fixed on the glass wall.

 

Peter hums again and shifts, snuggling closer to Wade.  He’s only got two weeks for Christmas break, but they’re making the most of it, and it certainly helps that his dads have allowed Wade to stay over for the entirety of his break.

 

They lie in bed for a while longer before Peter finally yawns widely and ends it with a small, wet kiss on Wade’s cotton chest.  More often than not, he spends the weekends sleeping over, though Peter still has a curfew on weekdays, and Wade always leaves on time, despite Peter’s whining, saying he doesn’t want to piss off his dads because he wants them to like him so he can keep coming over.  This, though, these endless days and nights spent together have opened something up to Peter that he didn’t know he could have.  It’s only been four days so far, but he never wants to let this go.

 

“What’re you thinking about, webhead?” Wade asks, running his hand over Peter’s back.

 

“You should move in,” he mumbles sleepily, and Wade stills beneath him.  Peter groans because now he actually has to be awake and open his eyes.  He brings his hands up, one of them tingly, and he pushes against Wade’s chest, rising up enough that he can see his face.  “What?” he asks, and then he’s yawning.

 

Wade smiles fondly, reaching up a hand to push his hair back from his face.  “What did you just say?” he asks, and Peter rolls his eyes because he knows Wade heard him.

 

“I’m serious,” he says, and then it occurs to him, “Unless you don’t want to.”

 

“No, no, I—I want to,” Wade assures him, “I just don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Peter, I know—I know this is great, it really is, but there are five years of lost time between us, and I don’t know how that figures in.”

 

“It doesn’t,” Peter says, shrugging.  He shifts until he can get his legs underneath him, folded up, one of his knees resting on Wade’s ribs.  He takes one of his hands and traces the scars on the back of it as he continues, “You left, but you were always here to me.  I’ve still grown up with you, and I get what you’re saying.  I mean—do you still think of me as thirteen?”

 

“Well—no,” Wade murmurs, watching Peter trace, “Do you still think of me as seventeen?”

 

“No,” Peter says, looking up, and Wade does, as well, meeting his gaze, “So, what’s the big deal, then?”

 

“Peter, you can’t just—”

 

“I can just, actually,” Peter cuts him off, “I love you.  I want to be with you.  My dads are frighteningly understanding about this, and they’ve always liked you.  I want you to move in.”

 

Wade just looks at him for a few moments before he smiles and nods.  “Okay,” he says, “But let’s not ask right now.  Give it a little more time.  How about in February?”

 

Peter sighs, but nods, “Okay, I can do that.  Hey,” he adds, putting both hands on Wade’s chest and grinning excitedly, “Wanna go sledding down the driveway?”

 

“You’re such a child,” Wade laughs even as he’s batting at Peter to get up.

 

They get dressed, wolf down some cereal, and chase each other outside, laughing loudly.  They spend the morning sledding down the driveway, doing tricks in the snow, and having a small snowball fight where Peter positions himself on the roof and Wade keeps sneaking up on him.  Eventually, though, they end up lying outside in the snow next to the loft, Wade tickling Peter everytime he tries to put snow where it doesn’t belong.

 

“Boys!” Tony yells around noon, and they make for the first floor, not wanting to track snow through the loft.  Peter starts with the snow again, so Wade spins and grabs him around the middle, tossing him over his shoulder, and Peter yelps, giggling madly.  When they finally get to the first floor, Peter directs them into the garage where they shed their snowy clothes and then go up into the kitchen where Bruce is standing with Tony at the counter, arms wound around his middle and head leaning on his shoulder, whispering while Tony smiles and continues making lunch.

 

“Hey,” Peter says as they come in, and Bruce detaches, going over to sit at the island.  “Feeling okay?” Peter asks as he frowns at the bags under Bruce’s eyes and the faraway look in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Bruce says, managing a smile, “What’ve you two been doing all morning?”

 

“Playing in the snow,” Wade says, rolling his eyes, and Peter gives him a shove, grinning.  Wade just snatches up one of his hands and presses a kiss to his palm, and Peter’s grin fades into a fond smile.  They have lunch with Tony and Bruce, who go down into the lab afterward, and Peter watches them go, frowning.  “Hey,” Wade says, poking at him with his foot, “What’s up?”

 

“I just hate when he looks like that,” Peter sighs, “When he’s feeling unstable up here,” he taps his head, and Wade nods.

 

“I’m sure it’s bound to happen, being who he is,” Wade says, and Peter nods, though he’s still looking at the empty doorway.  “Come on,” Wade says suddenly, sliding off his stool and reaching for Peter’s plate.  He goes over to clean their dishes and load them into the wash, and then he takes one of Peter’s hands, tugging him out of the kitchen and upstairs into the loft.  It’s changed since Wade came back into his life, and it always makes Peter smile when he sees him invading his space.

 

There’s a bookshelf in there now, which he always meant to do, and it’s stuffed full of all sorts of literature.  There’s a television built into the wall where the bed is, too, where they now spend many nights staying up late watching crappy television and whatever movie tickles their fancy.  A turntable sits in one of the corners, and Wade makes for it now, releasing Peter’s hand as he rifles through the records piled beneath it.  Peter goes over to the bookshelf, letting his fingers run over the spines before he picks out a German poet, one of Wade’s books, and he climbs up into the hammock, letting the book settle on his chest as he lets his gaze drop over to Wade.  He never wears the suit when he’s with Peter, unless they’re out on the streets and they need their masks, and it always makes him smile, unbelievably happy to think that Wade trusts him enough to see him as he really is.

 

“You look giggly again,” Wade says as he comes over.

 

“Giddy,” Peter corrects him, so Wade licks his ear when he’s next to him in the hammock, laughs when Peter squirms, and then he manhandles Peter into a more comfortable position, taking Rilke from him and opening up to one of his favorite poems.  Wade doesn’t read a lot, but Peter loves being read to, and he makes an exception for him, always.


End file.
